Like You Could Love Me
by static-disturbed
Summary: NG Slash. Nick and Greg clear some things up? Bad summary, please read. Rating just to be safe, just swearing really.


**Title**: Like You Could Love Me

**Summary**: Uh, just read it, I don't feel like explaining.

**Rating**: Pg-13 to R maybe, some swearing, some sexual undertones I guess, no smut or anything. A little angsty and dark maybe, but it ends on a better note.

**Author's Note**: I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head for weeks. I tried writing it so many different ways. I started out with it being Nick's POV and then tried to with Greg's POV. The story from Greg's point of view took a crazy turn where he winds up going to a rave, doing drugs and getting raped. I don't think that version will ever see the light of day. Anyway I eventually went back to Nick's POV and I think it works. I don't know, anyway leave the feedback pretty please  And I'm trying to complete a second chapter to 'Puddle Jumping' and a second chapter to 'Your Eyes' so they could be up soon, keep an eye out.

And I apologize for posting in bold type, when I'm writing I always make it bold just because I feel like its easier to see but forget to change it when I upload, this time I'll make sure I switch it back before posting.

Heavy mechanical doors slide closed behind them and it's at this moment Nick realizes he never caught his companion's name. A reflection of the slightly older, smarty dressed, undeniably gorgeous man watches him from the mirrored walls of the elevator and Nick decides he doesn't care. He's pretty sure he never told the stranger his name either so he figures it doesn't matter. For a second he wonders why he's getting hung up on names now. He's slept with countless nameless men, nothing to him but warm bodies. He knows the name of the one he wants. The voice reminds him that he could have the one he wants, doesn't just want but needs. He argues the voice, remembers the dead family he scraped off a hardwood floor that days, remembers what drove him to the club in the first place. The stranger's hand creeps beneath the hem of the t-shirt, does a thorough job of distracting him.

"This is a nice place", the man says as his fingers trace a pattern on the skin just inside the waistband of his jeans. His fingers are all wrong, short and thick and Nick shushes the voice again, the one reminding him the fingers he wants are long and slender, they shake ever so slightly in excitement or fear. Everything's wrong really. This man is the wrong age, the wrong height, wrong build, wrong hair, wrong eyes, wrong smile, and wrong demeanor. Nick wonders if subconsciously he did it to prove to the voice inside his head he isn't as hung up on Greg Sanders as it keeps reminding him he is. The elevator dings open and he leads his suitor through the doors, into the hall. They've only taken a few steps before the man is whispering things in his ear and guiding him with a hand on the small of his back. He's pretty involved with the things the man is saying, so involved that he doesn't notice the figure sitting Indian style against his apartment door until they're practically dry humping on top of him.

Greg stumbles to his feet clumsily and the sight of him alone is enough to break Nick's heart. His eyes are red and glazed over like he's been crying for some time now and Nick's concern about what caused the tears weighs heavily over everything else happening. There's a new hurt there now as Greg's eyes fall on the strange man, his hand still firmly in place on Nick's back. An angry array of emotions play across his features; jealousy, hurt, stupidity, confusion. His hands start to tremble ever so slightly as his eyes dart around, looking for an escape route.

"Greg" he starts, but really, Nick doesn't know what to say.

"Whose the kid?" the companion he had forgotten about until now asks, voice thick with arrogance. Embarrassment burns across Greg's face, works it way down his neck and beyond the neckline of his t-shirt onto the area of skin mapped with scars that tell the tale of a day no one likes to think about. Nick shakes away the unfamiliar hand and takes a step closer to Greg.

"Greg, this isn't what it looks like" they all know he's lying and it's not like him and Greg are in some exclusive relationship but it feels like the right thing to say for a second. Because Greg is trembling and broken and Nick feels like someone is slowly twisting a knife in his heart. The third man, the one Nick keeps forgetting is still there, scoffs.

"It's not? Then what am I doing here?" he questions, annoyed.

"Get lost" Nick barks surprising all three of them but Greg speaks for the first time.

"No, no, God I'm stupid" he stumbles over his words, "I'll go, sorry for interrupting your date… sorry for coming here". Nick watches him practically ran down the hallway, stumble into the elevator. It takes maybe two minutes before that voice is back again, screaming at Nick to go after him.

He takes the stairs two at a time and breathes in a sigh of relief when he sees the familiar blue Jetta still in the parking lot. Greg is in the driver's seat, forehead on the steering wheel, body shaking with sobs. Nick taps two fingers against the glass and Greg looks like he's going to hit the gas and take off. He doesn't though; instead he reaches down and taps the button to unlock the doors.

"I'm sorry," he says after slipping into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed. "That guy, he doesn't mean anything to me".

"Just a quick fuck huh?" Greg mumbles sitting up and swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his shirt and Nick knows he's not talking about him and the man he left by his apartment door, he's talking about the two of them. Hates that Greg thinks that about what they shared but Nick knows he's never given him any reason to think it was something more.

"No, Greg…"

"My Papa Oloaf died" Greg announces suddenly and Nick understands what the tears were about earlier.

"I'm so sorry G, I know how much he meant to you".

"He was my hero, best-friend" Greg confirms softly, eyes finding the upholstered roof of the car as he wills away the tears that are still building. "And you know what? I don't even deserve to mourn him, I don't deserve to miss him".

"Greg, that's not true"

"Every time we spend the night together and I wake up alone, I promise myself that it's done, that I'm not going to give in again. But then you're there with your goddamn smile, your fucking eyes" Greg's knuckles have begun to grip the steering wheel, skin straining white and taunt. "And somehow I always wind up crying in the shower alone, washing the smell of you down the drain". The realization of the damage he's done hits Nick like a semi-truck, heart splintering, the cracks seeping guilt into his blood stream. "The worst part, I can't even blame you, cause your Nicky Stokes, I can't even hate you because I love you too much" Greg's breathing hitches for a second and Nick can't talk or think, just hears two heartbeats and heavy breathing bouncing off the windows. The last words come as a whisper; "I live for those moments when you touch me like you could love me".

Nick feels frozen in time, watches Greg's chest rise and fall beneath a red t-shirt, hair flat against his head, eyes puffy and crimson, cheeks marred with salty tracks. And then the world starts spinning again and Nick's reaching across the seat, cupping the back of Greg's neck ever so gently, letting his thumb trace the younger mans jaw line. Greg's lids fall closed, eyelashes shiny from tears and Nick watches his Adams apple bob.

"Do you know how scary it is to need you as much as I do?" he whispers, "how scary it is to look into your eyes and see a future I convinced myself wasn't in my cards?"

"I've got an idea," Greg whispers, trembling. Nick guides Greg's face in his direction, runs an affectionate thumb across the blonde's brow.

"Touching you like I love you isn't hard G, it's instinct. I've been trying so hard to convince myself I didn't need you, but when you ran away up there, I thought I'd lost you forever, and that was ten times scarier then needing you, and I do need you, want you. And you're every bit worthy of mourning your grandfather, you're amazing and I know he was proud of you". A smile tugs at Greg's lips, love and relief and happiness shining in his eyes.

"I'm going to California for a week in the morning" he mutters breathlessly against Nick's palm that is still holding his cheek. Nick smiles softly.

"I'll be here when you get back, ready to earn a fresh start, that's a promise". And in the parking garage of Nick's building, the front seat of Greg's car, they sealed the deal with a kiss.


End file.
